


"T.S." Venture

by thebrownwidow



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drug Use, Homophobic Language, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7733389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrownwidow/pseuds/thebrownwidow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rusty stood in his room, staring blank at the door. He didn't know what to feel, what to do. He just stood there for what felt like an eternity before turning to his desk. He collected his things off the floor. Putting them back as if they were never thrown off. Before he could finish, he spotted Pete’s Walkman on the floor. No longer did it play, the battery since dying from playing overnight. He collapsed to his knees, holding it in his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"T.S." Venture

It had been weeks since Thaddeus Venture had gotten the news that his father died. There was no funeral, no service, no body to bury. Just one of his father’s lackeys from Team Venture speaking over the phone. Telling him that the man who fucked up his life- was not with them anymore. He shed no tears over the news, no crippling sorrow. The only thing that ached in his heart was a mix of guilt, and relief. As if the shadow of his father’s success that loomed over him had begun to dissipate like the clouds after a storm. But, deep inside him, he wished he got to say goodbye to his father.

College still continued on despite the absence of his father. Classes to sleep through, projects to half-ass, substances to take and parties to attend. The only good thing to happen to him recently was having his dorm room to himself. His previous roommate had been Brock Samson; a brutish Swedish boy who had dropped out to be in the army. Only after killing a fellow football player, then beating his roommate and others in a drunken rage. No more sleepless night’s, but the dark circles and bags under his eyes still remained.

 

“Hey Rust, you seen my Walkman? I swear I just put it down on the on the- Found it!” Pete said, Thaddeus sitting on his bunk bed as the pasty albino got ready.

“It’s  _ T.S. _ ,” Rusty groused. “And why are you bringing a  _ Walkman _ to a frat party, they're gonna have music there.”

“First of all, it makes me look cool. Second, it’s a new Sony one! With  _ bass boost, _ Rust. Oh damnit, my shorts don’t even got pockets.” He sighed, receiving a mocking laugh from Mike and Rusty.

“So, are we going to head out or do I get to watch you doll up more? We’re already an hour late.” Werner whined, the Underlandian shuffling around in circles near the door.

“Fine fine! Let’s go.” Pete rolled his eyes, leaving the Walkman on Rusty’s bunk as they cleared out of the dorm room.

They had gone to parties before, but never a fraternity party. A party they got to attend out of sheer luck of it being an open event. By the time they arrived, the frat house was already bustling with students and alumni. The air filled with sweat, weed, and beer. A disgusting mixture almost intoxicating to inhale. The faces of the attendees were ones Thaddeus could never recognize. Even as his group dispersed and he became forced to interact with the crowd. They all seemed to know about  _ him _ though, and give him silent condolences about his late father. Every attempt at flirting being cock blocked by a  _ “I heard about your father” _ . Every hello followed with the same words. No amount of beer in his system could suppress the fact he did not want to hear another word about him. It was bittersweet to hear, and Rusty found himself sitting alone towards the end of the night.

“Hey Rust. You looking pretty blue there.” Pete collapsed on the couch next to Rusty. “What’s got you down, Rust.”

“ _ T.S. _ , and it’s nothing. This party’s just a little shitty.” Rusty downed the rest of the beer in the can he was holding, Pete responding with a pissed off groan.

“Yea! This party freakin’  _ blows _ . I've been just walking around eatin’ their food for like two hours.” Pete snickered, leaning against Rusty. “You wanna bounce and go share a bud or something?”

“ _ Please.”  _ The ginger groaned, his face flushed from the alcohol already in his system. The two didn't bother at retrieving Verner or Mike, and wandered out of the frat house to the college. The air no longer lingered of alcohol and desperation, now crisp and smelling of old leaves. The two were quiet, beer cans in their hands. The only noise in the night was their footsteps, and the sound of trees idle in the evening autumn breeze. The entire campus felt at a stand still. Since most of its population was back at the party they had left so many minutes before.

 

By the time they made it to Rusty’s dorm, their hands were empty. They swayed with each step from the cheap liquor pumping through their veins. Rusty retrieved his friend’s Walkman off of his own bed, and the two sat cross legged together on the bunk. He fiddled with the radio stations on the device, while Pete tried to the light the joint between his lips. There was a brief flicker from the lighter in Pete’s hands, illuminating his pale face in the dim dorm room. The albino let out a pleased moan, smoke escaping out through his teeth and his nostrils. Rusty shoved the Walkman aside, the radio playing loud enough through its clunky headphones.

“This has been soooo much better than staying at that party.” Pete giggled, offering the bud to Rusty. The ginger complied, rolling his shoulders back to relax against the wall behind them.

“Totally, i’m real sick of hearing people talk about my dad.” Rusty grumbled, smoking between sentences. “It’s all “your father” this and “Doctor Venture” back. Even with my father fuckin’ dead all they care about is him.”

“Sheesh Rust. That sucks big time.” Pete frowned, the effects of the drug starting to kick in. He eased up too, leaning against Rusty for balance. Alcohol and drugs never mixed too well, though he did enjoy the high despite getting the spins.

“Fuck ‘em… Who cares about your pop, you’re T.S. freakin’ Venture!” Pete slurred, Rusty trying to force down a smile that begun to sprout on his face.

“I guess you’re right.” Rusty giggled, starting to feel the loopy effects too. “I'm my own man! Who needs them.” Pete grinned, wrapping an arm around Rusty before messing his hair up with the other. The ginger gasped and let out a playful laugh, falling onto his back as the two lost their balance. Luckily, he managed to save the bud still between his fingers. He held it up to Pete’s lips- who took it in before blowing a cloud of smoke from his nose. 

The two laid together, side by side. Pete’s arm trapped under Rusty, who laid there with one arm on his stomach, the other dangling off the bed. He crushed the dwindling roll of paper and weed in his hands. Not caring about the slight sting of the ash against his palm before it dropped to the floor in a ball of nothing.

“Who needs them.” Rusty repeated, turning on his side to face Pete. His red hair fell over his face, obscuring his wide smile. Pete reached over and brushed the hair from his eyes. Touch slow enough for Rusty’s skin to get goosebumps. Pete looked into his eyes, pink eyes that were kind, comforting, inviting. Even with the bloodshot vessels from the long night and the substances they had taken.

Their entire world swirled with shapes and colors indescribable to even Rusty. The only thing he could focus on was the man’s face; moving slow in towards his own. Pete’s lips were rough, from constant biting and picking at. Yet, warm and wet even with the cotton mouth they both had by now. He tasted of beer and weed, bitter yet sweet. Their kisses started slow and tender, unsure about how to advance. Only growing more open as they figured it out. Rusty’s heart fluttered with a feeling he never felt till now. And he ran his hand through Pete’s pearly white hair, which felt like silk against his fingers. He couldn't help but let out this sweet, soft noise into the kiss. One of longing, longing for touch and affection. Pete pressed into the kiss, enough for Rusty to feel his braces against his lip. The weight against him grew heavy against him. In a matter of moments he found himself lying on his back, arms draped around Pete's shoulders.

He didn't protest against the albino ripping his button up open, letting it fall to his sides. Allowing pale hands to explore his body through the tank top that clung to his sweat covered frame. He too couldn't keep his hands off the other. Yanking Pete’s shorts down just as soon as the man tugged at the waistband of his striped green slacks. Soon they remained only in their undergarments, entangled together in the dark. Impatient, wanting. Pete lifted one of Rusty’s legs up over his shoulder as he began to rut against him, exhaling deep as they began. Rusty mesmerized by their intimacy. Of the touch he lacked his entire life, amplified by the substances pumping through hot blood. His eyes only focused on the man rocking forward above him. The man who bit his own lip in pleasure whenever a small noise or “yes” escaped from Rusty. Who leaned in and kissed him hard as their breaths grew heavier. He saw stars in Pete's eyes, stars brighter and more beautiful than the night sky itself. Stars he still could see when he rolled his head back and moaned what could've been the other man's name. It was only a few moments before Pete joined him too, and collapsed onto him in a sweaty heap. Their hearts throbbed against each other in their afterglow. Laying together in silence until Pete looked to Rusty and let out a breathy giggle.

“I love you, T.S.” Pete whispered. They shared one final kiss, their lips sliding apart as it ended.

“I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

“GOOD MORNING ------- STATE UNIVERSITY.” The voice from Rusty's alarm clock broke through the morning silence. Rusty forced his eyes open, hardly awake before he felt the weight on top of him. It was warm, and breathing, and it took him a few moments to process what it was.

“What the  _ FUCK _ .” Rusty screeched, startling Pete enough for him to slam his head against the frame of the top bunk as he jolted. “WHAT THE FUCK!”

Pete held the back of his head, wincing in pain, looking down at the man with terror in his eyes. Rusty mouth was agape, looking at Pete, then himself. They both knew what happened the night before, and Rusty wished it was nothing more than a drug trip. But it wasn’t, and he was quick to get off the bed, hand against his mouth in disbelief.

“No no no. This can’t be happening.” Rusty said, unable to look back at the albino.

“Rust..” Pete whimpered, sitting on his knees on the bunk. Rusty felt like his insides we're going to fall out. A feeling of dread ripping through his body as he remembered exactly what happened. Every moment, every instant, even their “I love you"s.

“Rusty.. What happened-”

“It-It was a mistake!” Rusty cried, spinning around on his feet. “It was a mistake. A mistake no one should ever find out about.”

"A mistake!? Is it a mistake that you told me you loved me, Rust."

"It's not that."

“Then what is it? Because we’re two men? Because you’re ashamed of me?” Pete got up off the bed, balling his hands into fists. “Is that it, you're ashamed of me. Because the only person who cares about you..  _ loves you; _ isn't some college bimbette?”

“It's because I'm not some fuckin’ faggot disc jockey! I'm the son of Doctor Venture. I have a reputation, unlike you!” Rusty snapped, knocking his things off his desk. Pete stood there, his face changed from rage to somber. He breathed in heavy, the same pink eyes that looked at him so tender were now wide with pain. Pete dropped his head down, hair obscuring his eyes as tears rolled down his face. He stifled his sobs, clenched hands dropping to his sides. Rusty now regretted his words.

“Pete..-” Rusty whimpered. He watched the man pull his clothes on without a word, without a single look back at him.

“Peter-” Rusty stepped forward, extending a hand only to have it swat away. Pete turned to the door, stepping out into the doorway before looking back at Rusty.

“I hope it was worth ending up all alone.” Pete croaked, slamming the door behind him. Rusty stood in his room, staring blank at the door. He didn't know what to feel, what to do. He just stood there for what felt like an eternity before turning to his desk. He collected his things off the floor. Putting them back as if they were never thrown off. Before he could finish, he spotted Pete’s Walkman on the floor. No longer did it play, the battery since dying from playing overnight. He collapsed to his knees, holding it in his hands. His body shook, burning hot tears ran off his face and onto it as he sobbed. His face twisted with desolation, and he held the object close against his heart.

He was T.S. Venture.


End file.
